untitled for now 1

The elevator doors were open. Peculiar, she thought. She said hello to Jimbo, the guard as she does every morning and stepped into the elevator. Her shoes squeaked on the tile. She snickered a bit to herself and caught a glimpse of her reflection smiling back at her in the glass-coated doors. She decided her hair would look much better down and quickly took it out of her messy ponytail, combing her fingers through her just-brown hair. There was no fuss about her. Her face was clear of any stitch of makeup except for the Maybelline mascara she loved to put on her amber eyes. She smacked her lips together making a surprisingly loud popping noise reminding her to put on some lip balm. She reached into her favorite bag from the old village man-vendor in Avignon, and pulled out four different kinds of chapstick. After briefly mulling it over she chose the au natural fruits-of-the-forest and threw the rest hastily back in. She loved how every time she breathed in she could smell a party of sweetness.

The doors opened on floor 8 and the man wearing the beret stepped in. She smiled her crooked smile, but he sort of grimaced and looked down. She always found it so odd how people in elevators just stared at the floor. She took out her beat-up leather notepad and scribbled, “so odd. People in elevators don’t say hi, and stare at floor. Awkwaaaard.” Her notepad was filled with random findings like this. She tucked it back in her favorite bag and started to hum the song she heard while standing in line getting her hot chocolate this morning. She didn’t know she was humming, though she actually had quite a nice voice. The man with the beret looked up, annoyed. She kept humming, unaware. The man with the beret looked over at her now. She looked at him, still humming. Unaware. Carefree. He made a gesture with his bulging eyes as if to say, umm, you’re doing something, and it’s bothering me. Now suddenly hearing the vibrato in her throat, “Oh. Excuse me. I...I didn’t realize, I just…I just like to….n…nevermind. Stopping now.” And the man with the beret went back to the fascination of the floor. She made her eyes wide and mouthed her lips as if to say, w.o.w.

The elevator stopped at floor 30 and the man with the beret got out. She did a little dance and continued on to floor 32 where she exited noticeably.

Her shoes squeaked all the way down the hall. She tried to go on her tippy-toes as she noticed everyone watching her, but it didn’t make a difference. I really need to remedy these shoes, she whispered under her breath. She stepped into her office, closed the door and kicked off her shoes. "Take that shoes," she said, as they slammed against the wall noisier then thought grabbing unwanted attention. "Oh, I’m so squeaky, squeaky," she exaggerated as she pranced around in her socks making faces and flailing her arms about. "I like to squawk. Squaaakkkk," she continued in a high-pitched voice, now motioning her arms and head like a chicken. Little did she know she had an audience peering at her through the venetian blinds.

Kristen!

The door barged open and it was her friend Dawn looking as lovely as ever. Blond hair coiffed at the chin, subtle highlights, ruby lips.

Oh my gosh, you scared me!!! What?

Who are you talking to? And what are you doing this time?

Oh, I was….

And, nice socks…love the dinosaurs. How old are you?

Dawnnn…oh, guess what? I saw Beret-man in the elevator today.

Kristen, stop obsessing about elevator etiquette would you? Put your shoes on we need to go to the meeting.

I can’t.

What? What do you mean you can’t?

My shoes somehow got squeakier, she said twirling her hair in an innocent way that almost made her seem childlike.

Aw Kris. I told you those needed to go a long time ago. You’re lucky I haven’t found a way to accidentally, purposely, light them on fire or something. Just because you get paid to be an environmental-whatever….

Just then Kristen sighed with a smirk on her face. Dawn had a side to her that Kristen just adored. She seemed to teeter in and out of it without notice. The very nature of its authenticity made it endearing and always seemed to bring a smile to Kristen's face; she called it her Bimbo side. True, not flattering, not sugarcoated, but Dawn never cared. Are you having a “blond-moment” Dawn? Is that the new title of my position? Hello, nice to meet you. Yes I am in the environment-whatever field. And this is my assistant, also in the environment-whatever field. We do lots of environment–whatever important things. And they both grabbed at each other’s arms and started to giggle. The way they laughed together was all together charming.

I know technically I may need new shoes, but I just love these. I’m going to fix these. Period. Don’t you remember where I got them? Can’t I just, I don’t know, take them to a cobbler?

Kristen? Like an elf?

Hilarious Dawn. No. You know, like back in the good old days? They still exist right? I just don’t want to get rid of these. Not yet. Not if I don’t have to.

Well then, we need to put down some carpet or something. Or at least let’s find the cobblers’ number pronto. But you know Kris...sooner or later you’re going to have to let that “best time in your life" go.

Yeah, yeah. So I hear.

Come on squeaky friends. Let’s do this. Don't fail me now.

As they were walking down the hall she reached into her favorite bag, pulled out her notepad and wrote, “make a new best time in my life. Dawn is right. start plans tonight?”

What are you writing now? Please tell me it’s not some weird philosophy about the cafeteria food?

Nope.

And she put her notepad away, smiled and linked her arm around Dawn’s.

Dawn smiled too.

You’re kinda crazy you know?

Yeah.